


Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Holmes: a work of crack.

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, M/M, Married Life, Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: John and Greg know they're funny. Sherlock kind of agrees, and Mycroft thinks they're all too juvenile for words.





	Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Holmes: a work of crack.

**Author's Note:**

> When it occurred to me that two marriages might equal four Mr. Holmes', I couldn't resist.

Sherlock and John sat in their flat in Baker Street, comfortably occupying themselves with the usual mundane tasks – experiments for the former and blogging for the latter. The sound of Mrs. Hudson opening the door and ushering someone upstairs brought both men out of their respective occupations. By the time their visitor had arrived, Sherlock and John were sitting expectantly in their chairs, having each deduced the same thing – a _client_.

“Mr. Holmes.” The man began nervously, looking at the floor.

“Yes?” Sherlock answered.

“Yes?” John also spoke, accustomed as he was to such an address. The man looked startled.

“We both answer to that title, as you can see,” Sherlock told him, “though Doctor Holmes is also acceptable for my colleague.”

John wrinkled his nose. “That will never sound right,” he reminded Sherlock, who grinned sideways before addressing their client again.

“Mr…” he started, and the man supplied, “Bohrig”.

“Begin at the beginning and don’t be-“

“Don’t say it, Sherlock.” John warned him, and Sherlock rolled his eyes and John in admonishment, and his hand at the client, inviting him to begin.

As the man began a long tale of mysterious envelopes and a wife whose absences could not be adequately explained, another two sets of footsteps could be heard on the stairs. The client broke off as Mycroft and Greg entered the room.

“Mr. Holmes!” he exclaimed.

“Yes?” Sherlock answered.

“Yes?” John answered.

“Yes?” Mycroft answered.

“Yes?” Greg answered. There was a moment of startled silence from the client as all four men answered him at once. Greg and John, still amused by this occurrence, grinned at each other as the brothers scowled.

“This is our former client. He was, and always will be, Bohrig.” Sherlock told his brother, sending the client on his way with a firm push in the lower back.

“What do you want?” Sherlock asked Mycroft.

“Why Mr. Holmes,” Mycroft began sarcastically.

Greg and John chimed in together, “Yes?”

Mycroft sighed dramatically as Greg and John cracked up, leaning against each other as they laughed.

“Will you never tire of that joke?” Mycroft asked, though his voice had softened as he addressed Greg.

Grinning, Greg and John answered in unison, “No, Mr. Holmes.” They laughed again, then moved into the kitchen to make tea, leaving the brothers behind.

“He still likes the Mr. Holmes joke, then.” Sherlock noted quietly.

“As does John, brother.” Mycroft replied.

The two men stood for a moment, enjoying the amusement and affection towards their chosen husbands.

“And you?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft shrugged unconvincingly. “If it amused Gregory, I will tolerate it.”

Sherlock’s smile was knowing. “I like it too, Mr. Holmes.” Mycroft’s smile was fleeting – he did not find it amusing at all, Sherlock thought with glee.

John and Greg returned, bringing the tea and biscuits together.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.” Greg said, as John shifted some papers.

“Anytime, Mr. Holmes.” John replied, grinning as Mycroft and Sherlock rolled their eyes as one.

“Tea, Mr. Holmes?” Greg offered the brothers, and they answered without thinking, “Yes, thank you.”

Greg almost dropped the teapot as he howled with laughter; John’s hands were shaking as he fought to control his own mirth. Sherlock’s mouth was twitching, but Mycroft’s face was impassive, even in the presence of such merriment.

“This will never ever get old.” John informed them gravely, before allowing the laughter to once again take hold.

“Oh, I think it might.” Mycroft muttered darkly, taking over and pouring the tea. He offered a cup to his brother, before turning to John and saying sarcastically, “Tea, Mr. Holmes?”

“Thank you.” John said.

“Thank you.” Greg said, at the same time.

“Thank you.” Sherlock said in unison with the others. Mycroft swore under his breath at his brother as Sherlock, John and Greg again started laughing hysterically at Sherlock’s participation in their joke.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft reproached him, but it was no use.

“Come on, Mycroft, it’s funny!” Sherlock cajoled. Mycroft simply rolled his eyes.

“You should come to visit Mummy and Father with us,” Sherlock told Greg and John, his eyes alight as he planned the mischief. “All the staff call us Mr. Holmes – it’s funny enough when it’s just the three of us, but McAllister would have a coronary at this!”

Greg and John were grinning at the idea. Mycroft looked exasperated.

“Will you ever grow up?” Mycroft snapped, and in unison, the others answered him.

“No, Mr. Holmes.”


End file.
